Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Unlucky **PROMO**


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I awoke to a full-body orgasm.
“Breathe!” Crixus ordered.
“I’m…trying!” I insisted through spasms.
“Thank the gods,” he sighed, pulling me into a seated position.
My head thundered with pain. “What happened?”
“He killed you.”
“What?”
A strange high-pitched voice chanted somewhere in the background. “I should have warned you,” Crixus said, close to my ear. “Humans are especially susceptible to leprechaun magic. You have to try not to upset him.”
“I was dead?”
“Not for long,” Crixus reassured me.
“Not for long? Not for long?”
He pressed a warm finger against my lips. I suppressed the urge to lick it. “Listen,” he whispered.
I looked over Crixus’s shoulder to see Flick’s silhouette outlined against the glow of Sigmund’s tank.
“Benedictus hippurus hoc est enim mihi pulcher forsit sapidum,” the little figure said, making the sign of the cross.
“Was that Latin?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Crixus answered. “I’m a little rusty, but I think he said, ‘blessed be this goldfish, for it is beautiful in my sight, and probably very tasty.’”
Crixus stifled my gasp with a rough palm. “He’s in Saint Patrick mode. Don’t interrupt him. He’s likely to smite.”
“What if he hurts Sigmund?”
We both looked toward the aquarium, where Flick had discovered a tea bag and was swinging it back and forth like a censer.
“He won’t,” Crixus said, turning my face to his. “I won’t let him.”
“You let him kill me.”
“But I brought you back.” Crixus regarded my distressed expression with genuine confusion.
“First a death threat, then Rolly, and now a homicidal leprechaun,” I snorted. “This day is turning out to be spectacular, all right.”
“You mean the valentine?” Crixus asked.
“How do you know about that?” I found myself holding him in a guarded gaze, not entirely able to trust his concern.
“It’s been humming around your subconscious ever since you opened the letter.”
“So you heard that?”
“Of course,” he said, helping me to my feet. “That’s why I came.”
“Not because of Flick?” I asked, looking into his eyes.
A disarming dimple appeared in his chin. “Okay, maybe both.”
“I knew it! Here you are pretending like you’re doing me a favor by taking care of Rolly, when all the time you needed my help. You never think of anyone but yourself!”
“That’s not true,” he said, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead. “I think about you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Okay, so you’re usually naked when I’m thinking about you, but that still counts.”

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